


The Hound's Heart

by erbowman28



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Murder, Romance, Rough Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erbowman28/pseuds/erbowman28
Summary: Emma Stormcrest hated King's Landing more than anything. So, when she finds herself at the Hand's Tourney she decided to make the best of things. When Eddard Stark and her cousin Robert Baratheon both die she soon finds herself thrust into a world of lies, murder, and survival. The only way she knows she can make it out is with the help of a very unlikely friend: Sandor Clegane.





	1. Arrival

Emma Stormcrest hated King’s Landing with a passion. The only reason she was here to begin with was to represent House Stormcrest at the Hand’s Tourney. Emma still didn’t understand why her father couldn’t have sent Rickard, her younger brother. Sure, he was younger than her by three hours, but he was still the rightful heir of House Stormcrest. Emma was a bastard, born from one of her father’s many love affairs. The only difference between her and his other bastards was that he had loved her mother. He had taken Emma into his care after her mother had died and made sure that she lived a comfortable life. A fact that her stepmother hated. Emma was a constant reminder of her father’s previous affairs and the fact that Emma was her father’s favorite child didn’t help.

Emma couldn’t really complain too much about her life though. Her father had brought her up as a fighter, something that wasn’t very common amongst the ladies of Westeros, and yet another reason her stepmother despised her. Emma could only assume that if she had been a proper young lady maybe their relationship could be different, but now she would never know.

The air in King’s Landing was nothing like that of her hometown of Oceanmire, the small city outside of Storm’s End. There the air was fresh, with the slight smell of salt from the sea. Here, however, the air smelled of pig shit and sweaty hookers. How anyone could live in a sty like this was beyond her.

Emma was pulled from her own thoughts when her carriage came to a sudden stop. They had finally arrived at the Red Keep, home to the royal family. Emma exited the carriage and immediately noticed the looks some of the women mingling outside were giving her. Emma hated wearing the pretty dresses that other court women wore. She usually opted for knight’s armor or the clothing her brother wore. Today she wore the armor knowing that she needed to make a good impression. She was here to represent her family and needed the look her best. 

Her sea blue cape swirled around her ankles and her sword clanked against her left hip as she walked. Emma gripped the pommel as she strut towards the throne room. She was particularly fond of the pommel she had chosen for it had an aquamarine sea stone that she herself had found on the beach. Her blacksmith had included it in the valryian steel sword that her uncle had gifted her for her seventeenth name day. 

“Lady Emma,” a voice announced behind her. Emma was halfway to the throne room and frowned at the sudden interruption. She turned and took in the figure of her father’s good friend Eddard Stark. For a man old enough to be her father he was still fairly attractive. 

“Ned!” Emma smiled and approached the older man. Emma offered her hand, but Ned ignored it and brought her into a tight hug. It felt so good to see a familiar face in the place she hated the most. She remembered first meeting Ned when he had been returning to Winterfell after defeating the Mad King. Emma had been born only a few years before Robert’s Rebellion and was about five when the victors returned. Eddard Stark had been an imposing figure then and she was pleased to see that that hadn’t changed much over the years.

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked once they parted. He grabbed her left hand and linked their arms together as they walked. 

“Father was too ill to travel and Rickard is looking over our lands for him, so they decided to send me for the tourney,” Emma explained. Ned looked at his feet, a frown on his face. He and Lord Stormcrest were very close, it must have hurt him to hear that his friend was ill.

“May I congratulate you on your new title?” Emma asked, gesturing towards his new pin. Ned glanced down at the bronze hand on his chest and nodded his head almost solemnly. Emma would have commented on this had they not arrived at the throne room. The doors opened almost magically and both Emma and Ned walked in to greet the King. Emma took a moment to appreciate the throne room for the first time. She herself had never seen it, but her father and brother described it well enough. The Targaryen red walls with golden pillars, the seven-pointed star in front of the stained-glass window, and the giant throne made of hundreds of melted swords. 

“Your Grace,” Ned announced and bowed before the throne. Everyone turned to Emma to see how she reacted. The young woman knew that everyone was aware of who she was, her sea blue cape with the storm cloud and lightning bolt was a dead giveaway. Another reason Emma hated King’s Landing: the insatiable need for gossip and scandal.

“Cousin,” Emma finally announced and placed a hand over her heart. The Stormcrest’s had never bowed to a king before, had never sworn any oaths, and Emma was sure that they never would. They respected the title and the sovereign, but they made their own laws and kept their own armies, a smaller country in its own right.

Somehow every Targaryen king and queen had accepted that. When Aegon the Conqueror had arrived in Westeros the Stormcrest’s had soundly defeated them. Aegon had been so impressed that he made them their own principality, much like Dorne had been. Now that the Stormcrest’s had the Baratheon’s as cousins, they still expected not to. They were only cousins by marriage, but cousins nonetheless.

Everyone held their breath and looked to King Robert. A slow smile spread over her cousin’s lips and he stood from his throne. He slowly approached her and for a moment he stood silent in front of the young woman. Robert’s mouth spread into a giant grin as he opened his arms to her.

“Cousin Emma, good to have you,” he exclaimed in that boisterous voice of his. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into an enormous bear hug. He had gotten fatter since she had last seen him so she was practically being smothered into his chest. Emma chuckled and lightly struggled against her cousin’s wide berth, almost forgetting how much Robert liked to hug. 

“Where is your father?” He asked once he pulled away. Ned shifted uncomfortably beside Emma, something the king missed.

“Unfortunately, he was too sick to travel,” Emma explained once more. Robert looked as upset as Ned had, but soon his smile returned. He quickly introduced her to Cersei and Joffrey, his wife and eldest son, whom Emma immediately despised. Then he introduced her to Myrcella and Tommen, his other two children, whom Emma immediately adored.

“They couldn’t send a legitimate child? They had to send a bastard?” Cersei snapped rather loudly. Robert turned and shot his wife a look that immediately shut her up. Emma had been certain that her opinion of Cersei couldn’t get any lower, but she was wrong. Having been around people of noble birth all of her life Emma was used to the title of bastard, but every once in a while, it still stung to hear that she was looked down upon.

“This tourney is in honor of Ned, our new Hand to the King, and I’m sure he doesn’t mind Lady Emma’s presence,” Robert snapped. 

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Ned piped up helpfully. The look that passed over the queen’s face was full of contempt and disgust. It was quite obvious that there was some tension surround the queen and the Hand. An uncomfortable silence immediately fell over the hall and no one dared to speak. Finally, Prince Joffrey broke the silence.

“Why are you dressed this way?” Joffrey asked rather rudely as Robert returned to his throne. Emma smirked and looked down at her clothing. She had been born not too far from Storm’s End and there the winds were fierce and the nights cold; most of the ladies dressed the same as the men, finding dresses too drafty and cold.

“I’ve never been one for fancy dresses,” she explained, her smile growing at the sneer that spread across the prince’s face. It was at that moment when Emma felt someone’s gaze on her. She looked to the right of the Iron Throne and saw a giant of a man staring at her, make that two giant men. 

The first was a behemoth with close cut black hair and eyes as black as coals. He had a monster of a broadsword strapped across his back and a cape of yellow and black across his shoulders. The sigil of three dogs was carved into the right shoulder plate of his armor, but Emma couldn’t place what house it was from. The man was about three feet taller than herself, which made him extremely large considering Emma was tall for a woman. His eyes were the scariest part about him though. Void of any kind of emotion, just pitch-black pools of nothingness.

The other man held more of Emma’s interest. The left side of his face appeared almost melted, a serious burn that must had been hell to receive. His left eyebrow was missing and the hair on that side of his skull was sparse. His skin drooped slightly over his eye and his left ear was almost completely missing, but other than that Emma saw no problem with his face. He would’ve been more handsome without the scar, but she still saw the man beneath and found him rather attractive. His hair was light brown, reaching just below his chin and he had a mustache and beard that was a slightly darker color. His eyes were a sweet chocolate brown that looked quite sad, like those of a puppy. He was almost as tall as the other man, at least a foot and a half taller than Emma. A sigil reminiscent of a dog was on his armor and it was unlike any sigil Emma had ever seen. Certainly not one from any of the great houses.

“Does the Hound frighten you girl?” Cersei asked as she noticed Emma staring. The man with the scarred face shifted uncomfortably and swung his gaze away from her. Emma concluded that he must be the Hound.

“I don’t frighten easily Your Grace,” Emma replied with a smirk. The Hound glanced back up at her and something foreign flickered in his eyes. Emma threw him a small smile but he did not return it, though that didn’t surprise Emma. He seemed like the hardened warrior type, not one for emotions or kindness.

“He’s my dog, my hired sword,” Joffrey explained proudly. Emma’s eyes snapped back to the little prince and a look of cold fury crossed her delicate features.

“Does any man deserve the title of ‘dog’?” She snapped back. This made Robert laugh, but he was soon quieted when Cersei shot him a discouraging look.

“What about the Mountain?” Joffrey asked, his voice hitting an almost whining pitch. This time the man with the black eyes approached Emma and didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of her. He was much taller than she had originally thought and from this proximity she noticed that his eyes held a combination of violence, hate, and unsurprisingly a large amount of lust. 

Emma knew of the effect her body had on men and was used to seeing that look in their eyes. The Gods had granted her with an excellent woman’s body, including ample breasts, a small waist, and a plump arse, all of which she was extremely proud to show off. She also didn’t fail to notice the way The Hound’s hand went to the pommel of his own sword. Something in the gesture made Emma smile appreciatively. The Mountain noticed this smile and took another step towards her, but she still didn’t back down. She forced her eyes back to the man in front of her and couldn’t help the small flash of panic that crossed her features, luckily the Mountain didn’t notice that. He was a much more terrifying figure up close.

“Like I said, Your Highness, I don’t scare easily,” she repeated, this time with a little more venom in her voice. The extra bitterness in her tone was to overcompensate for her tiny amount of fear. Her eyes had never left the Mountain’s and she was sure that her act of defiance had made her more attractive in his eyes. Men like him liked feisty girls, she knew that from personal experience.

The Mountain growled deep in his chest and stormed away. Emma turned her head to watch him leave, an amused little smirk on her face. She turned back to face Joffrey and was pleased to see how flustered he looked.

“Well, we are pleased to have you here Lady Emma. Will any of your men be competing tomorrow in the tourney?” Robert asked curiously. Emma smiled a little wider, taking great pleasure in talking about her accomplished men.

“I have six knights competing, two swordsmen, an archer, and three jousters,” she explained. Robert nodded, impressed, but Emma once again found her attention drifting to the Hound. His eyes were glued to her and Emma shifted her body slightly so that he got a good long look at her profile. She knew for a fact that her armor cut a nice figure on her, many of the Stormcrest men had told her so.

“Well, you must be exhausted after your journey. Ned will show you to your rooms,” Robert smiled again and waved her off.

“I look forward to my visit cousin,” she said with a small tilt of her head. Ned approached her and she followed after him, but not before sending the Hound one more curious look. This would be a very interesting visit indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to bookmark and leave a comment! I would love to hear your opinion! :)


	2. A Quick Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor goes to check up on the new guest.

Sandor Clegane wasn’t one to usually notice women, in fact he preferred paying for whores than finding a real woman, but this one was different. Emma Stormcrest was unlike any noble lady he had ever seen before, glossing over the fact that she was a bastard. Her crystal blue eyes were mesmerizing and her waist length golden hair rivaled that of the Lannister’s. The armor she wore accentuated the curves of her body and the ever-present smirk on her face was just delicious to look at. He had noticed her staring at him, but her eyes didn’t hold fear or disgust like the other ladies of the court, instead she looked curious and a little fascinated. 

When his brother had approached her, he had been impressed that she had stood her ground. He didn’t fail to notice the little flash of panic on her face, but he couldn’t blame her, Gregor was surely a sight to behold. And the way she talked to Joffrey and Cersei was fucking brave. He had to admire the girl for her spirit.

She had made a great impression on the Queen and Prince though, she was all they could talk about. Sandor actually found it quite amusing how a single woman could cause such a scene.

“I don’t like her,” Cersei declared. Sandor had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. What a fucking surprise, the Queen doesn’t like someone.

“Her family is a great asset. Strongest army and navy in the land. Rivals even the Lannister army and Greyjoy navy.” Robert was too busy stuffing his face to properly defend his cousin, but then again whatever he said would only make the situation worse. Joffrey was pacing by the windows, a strange look flashing in his green eyes.

“She was rather pretty though,” he remarked with a small smile. Sandor felt something twist in his stomach at the words. For some reason, the thought of Joffrey courting the Lady Emma rubbed him the wrong way. He knew it shouldn’t, he was a dog and she was a lady. To him she could only be a fireball with a pretty face, nothing more.

“She’s a bastard, a high-born bastard, but a bastard nonetheless. You’re better off with the Lady Sansa,” Cersei snapped at her eldest son. Joffrey shrugged his shoulders and took the seat next to his mother.

“I could still have some fun with her. She’s older than I, maybe she’ll have some experience,” Joffrey chuckled darkly. He and Cersei started to laugh, but instantly stopped when Robert slammed his large fist on the table.

“You will leave her be or you’ll face my wrath. She is the favorite daughter of the most powerful lord in my country and my own cousin. I will not have you defiling her,” he snarled. Joffrey shook with fear and Sandor smirked at the sight.

“Dog!” Robert commanded. Sandor made his way over to the table and bowed stiffly to his King. “Make sure our guest has settled in. She’s in the room below the Hand’s Tower.”

“Yes, my King,” Sandor grunted and left the room. He took his time going to Emma’s room, he was in no particular hurry to check in on her and from what he had seen the woman could handle herself. When he did finally get to Emma’s room he was surprised at the sight he found.

“What are you doin’ here?” Sandor asked his brother’s broad back. Gregor turned and Sandor took in the sight of Emma peeking out a little timidly from behind her partially closed door. Gregor growled and turned back to Emma, completely ignoring his younger brother.

“Think it over,” his brother commanded in his deep rumble.

“Trust me, I won’t,” Emma snarled back, opening the door a little wider, becoming braver with Sandor’s presence. Gregor growled again before stalking away down the hall, his shoulders hunched in a displeased manner. Sandor watched his brother until he was out of sight before turning back to Emma.

“What did that cunt want?” Sandor demanded. Emma lifted a single eyebrow at his tone, but he chose to ignore it.

“That cunt, as you so elegantly put it, wanted to offer me his manhood for whenever I felt a little bit lonely.” Emma couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at the words. They had sounded so ridiculous coming out of Ser Gregor’s mouth and even more ridiculous coming out of her own.

“Not interested?” Sandor asked curiously. Emma let out a bark of a laugh and steadied herself against the doorframe. Now Sandor had to raise an eyebrow at her antics. Any other woman would have shrunk back in fear, not laughed hysterically.

“I am in no way interested in your brother, no offense intended. I am planning on getting through this visit with my dignity and honor still intact,” she said, still a little breathless. 

“Not yer maidenhead?” Sandor frowned, stepping a little closer to her. Emma’s eyelids immediately drooped seductively and she stepped forward to meet Sandor.

“That’s been gone a long time, Ser,” she chuckled slyly.

“I’m no Ser, I’m a dog,” he snapped at her. Emma’s eyes widened again and a look of anger passed over her face.

“No man should be labeled as an animal,” she declared. Sandor chuckled darkly, this poor woman had no idea how things worked in the capital. Sandor decided to take it upon himself to show her.

“I kill people because I find it fun, I fuck whoever and whenever I want, if that’s not a fuckin’ animal then I don’t know what the hell is,” he snarled. He slowly approached her, a dark look in his eyes. He backed her up against the wall and a flash of fear passed through her eyes. Sandor reached up and stroked the side of her cheek in a possessive sort of way. He leaned in a little closer until his nose practically touched hers. He saw her gulp and the fear was replaced by a new emotion, one that he couldn’t decipher.

“I take what I want, when I want. And I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me,” he snarled. He cupped her chin and leaned in again, not exactly to kiss her, but to show her who was in charge.

Suddenly Emma grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side, forcing a yelp of pain out of his mouth. He turned his head and glared at her, but he found that the look on her face had changed. She was now sporting her delicious smirk again and a fire had lit behind her eyes.

“I also do whatever I want, whenever I want. And if you ever touch me without my permission again I’m going to want to change you from a man into a woman,” she snarled, baring her teeth at him. Sandor frowned, confused by her last few words until he felt a sharp sensation near his crotch. He looked down and saw that she was holding his own knife dangerously close to his manhood. Sandor growled and nodded his head in understanding. Emma released his wrist and flipped the knife so that she was now holding it by the blade, the hilt pointed in his direction.

“Till me meet again Hound,” she smirked. Sandor continued to glare at her as he took his knife and stormed down the hall, fully aware of her laughter behind him. All he could think about now was getting drunk and laying with a woman, for after all of that he found his breeches becoming extremely uncomfortable. The way she had taken control like that had affected him in a surprising way. He just needed to make sure that he didn’t get a blonde. He couldn’t stand fuckin’ blondes right now.


	3. The Hand's Tourney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and the Stark's attend the Hand's Tourney together.

Emma woke up early the next day, surprisingly excited for the day’s events. She got up to get dressed and noticed a new note on her dresser. Her handmaiden must have placed it there early in the morning. The grey direwolf wax seal made the notes writer evident. Emma cracked the wax and quickly read over the note. The Starks wanted to break their fast with her, sweet. Instead of donning her usual knight’s armor Emma opted for a dress. She only wore them for special occasions, but still kept a small dagger strapped to her thigh.

“Elena!” Emma called out. Her handmaiden rushed into the room and immediately started to pin her hair up. Elena pulled her ladies golden locks back out of her face but left the majority of the waist length hair to fall down her back. She helped Emma into a sleeveless midnight blue dress with a slit that went up her left leg, stopping just above her knee. The color complimented her pale skin beautifully and made her eyes pop. She laced up her high heels and pinched a little color into her cheeks before deciding that she was ready.

“Will you join me at the tourney today Elena? Carin will be there,” Emma smirked, mentioning the handsome jouster that her handmaiden had eyes for. Elena blushed a little at the sound of his name and sheepishly replied that she would love to come. Emma left Elena in the room and started the long climb up to the Hand’s Tower. On her way up Emma bumped into a tall, impossibly skinny man.

“Excuse me,” she muttered politely and continued up.

“Lady Emma,” the man called out. Emma turned curiously and watched the man take a few steps closer to her. She took this time to take in his appearance. He wore very fine hand-tailored clothes and had a mustache and goatee, both coming to a fine point at his chin. His amber eyes were perpetually squinted as if he were constantly suspicious of everyone.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet, I’m Lord Baelish the Master of Coin,” he said with a knowing smile. Emma politely smiled back and held out her hand. He took it and brought it up to his mouth, placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. Emma would have been flattered had her chest not constricted in suspicion.

“Lovely to meet you Lord Baelish,” Emma nodded and started up the stairs again only to be called back.

“Will you be at the tourney today, my Lady?” He asked innocently. Something strange twisted in Emma’s stomach at the question. She had only been speaking to Lord Baelish for a few seconds and already she felt that she could not trust him.

“Yes, I will, my Lord,” she replied. Baelish only smiled and with a nod of his head, he left her there on the stairs. Emma scrunched up her nose in distaste and continued her journey upwards.

“There she is. I’m glad you received my note,” Ned announced as soon as Emma had walked into the room. Emma smiled and went straight to Ned’s two daughters, Sansa and Arya.

“And how are my beautiful ladies doing today?” She asked, giving them each a quick hug. Arya jumped out of her chair to receive her hug while Sansa rose gracefully and placed two kisses on either side of her friend’s cheeks.

“Lovely to see you,” Sansa said politely before sitting back down. Emma shot Ned a surprised look but he only shrugged his shoulders. The last time Emma had seen Sansa she had been a bubbly and vivacious girl, now she was acting like a seasoned courtier.

“Are you excited for the jousts?” Arya asked, practically jumping up and down in her seat. The Stark’s septa clucked disapprovingly at the young girl but Emma had to chuckle at her antics.

“Yes, I am. I have three of my men in the lists,” Emma explained and took a seat to the right side of Ned. 

“Worried for any of them?” Ned asked and Emma immediately shook her head.

“My men are seasoned warriors, even if they lose I’ll be proud of them.”

They were all silent for a while as they started eating. Something kept nagging at Emma, the Lord Baelish, and she knew that Ned would have some answers for her. Once they had finished eating Emma rose and motioned for Ned to follow her. They took the cushioned seat underneath a window and Emma leaned forward so that she could whisper.

“What can you tell me of Lord Baelish?” Emma asked. Ned looked at her in surprise and glanced back over at his daughters. Once he was certain that they were no longer listening he leaned back in and spoke.

“You know Lord Baelish?”

“I met him on the stairs up here. All I need to know is if I can trust him,” Emma said with a serious look. Ned met the younger woman’s eyes and found himself looking into the face of a warrior. She had survival on the mind and needed his help to figure out who to trust and who not to trust.

“You can’t trust many people in Kings Landing, least of all Petyr Baelish,” Ned finally replied. Emma nodded solemnly and Ned could see the wheels turning in her mind. Emma was a smart girl, it would take a powerful man to outthink her.

“Shall we go to the tourney?” The Stark septa asked. Emma and Ned both rose and followed the other three women out of the tower. They approached the tilt and found seats in the front row, close to the king’s box and close to the upcoming action. Emma looked for her own men and found them all huddled together in front of the king’s box. Emma rose and went down to greet them and grant them her blessing.

“Ser Carin, are you ready for today’s joust?” Emma asked her best jouster. All the men turned to her and immediately bowed. Emma turned to see Cersei’s reaction but the woman was not yet in her seat.

“All ready my Lady. Is Elena here yet?” Carin asked sheepishly. Emma smiled and turned back to the stands. Her handmaiden had just arrived and was seating herself beside Arya.

“Good luck,” Emma called out to her men with a knowing smile before walking back to her seat.

Emma hated jousting. The outcome was unpredictable and never good. So far three men had been impaled, two injured, and one had died after being thrown from his horse. Carin had made it to one of the final rounds only to be unseated by the Knight of the Flowers, Loras Tyrell. Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his extravagant helm, but Sansa seemed extremely taken by him. As Loras rode by on his white palfrey he extended his hand, two roses clutched in his glove.

“For the two loveliest ladies at court,” he smiled at both Emma and Sansa. Emma and Sansa rose together, each gratefully taking a rose. Sansa immediately sat back down, but Emma remained standing.

“Good luck in the final round Ser,” she smiled seductively. Loras smiled back a little uncomfortably, his eyes on someone just behind her. Emma watched him ride off before turning back to her seat. She looked at the crowd, trying to see who Loras could possibly be looking at and zeroed in on her youngest cousin, Renly Baratheon. Renly was watching Loras intently, his hands wringing nervously. A knowing smirk crossed her lips but it fell when Lord Baelish took up the place next to her.

“My Lady,” he smiled before taking the empty seat next to her. Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sat back down in between Petyr and Sansa. Just then the Hound walked by, his hound shaped helm in his hand. He had been unseated by Ser Loras as well and seemed extremely displeased. As he walked by, he turned his head and caught Emma’s eye. He looked down and took in the bright red rose that Loras had gifted her. A sneer appeared across his features and he sped up and walked into the king’s box.

“Have you ever heard the story about the Mountain and the Hound? A real tale of brotherly love,” Petyr whispered into Emma’s ear. Emma glanced at Petyr before turning her gaze back to the Hound.

“Tell me,” she commanded. Petyr chuckled and positioned himself so that his lips were at her ear.

“Sandor Clegane was a young boy, barely six when his brother Gregor found him playing with one of his toys. Now Gregor was only eight, already a big boy with a growing reputation. He took one look at Sandor playing with his toy and without a word grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. His father made up a story that the boy's bed had caught fire and Gregor was never punished.”

Emma looked at Petyr in shock before fixing her eyes back on the Hound. He was watching his brother Gregor ready himself for the joust, a look of contempt on his face. Emma had never heard a more heart-wrenching story. To think that a brother could do that to another brother. 

Everyone turned their attention back to the joust just as Ser Loras and Ser Gregor mounted their horses. Ser Gregor’s horse was acting very strangely but they continued on with the joust anyway. Emma vaguely heard Lord Baelish place a bet with Renly but she wasn’t paying much attention. The horses charged at each other and just as they were about to strike, Ser Gregor’s horse reared and tossed him to the ground. Everyone gasped and then clapped when they realized that Ser Loras had won. Sansa jumped to her feet and applauded like a woman besotted.

Ser Gregor roared and everyone’s attention was turned back to him. He called for his sword and a terrified squire ran forward with the gigantic weapon in his hands. Gregor unsheathed the sword, waited for the squire to take the reins and with one well-placed blow he beheaded his horse. Emma gasped and reached for Sansa’s hand. The two girls clutched each other as Ser Loras rode by Ser Gregor. The giant man struck out and knocked Ser Loras from his horse. 

More screams rang out along the tiltyard as Ser Gregor brought down his sword. Loras barely had enough time to lift his little wooden shield. Blow after blow kept knocking pieces off and Emma grew worried. Shields like that were made to be broken, it wouldn’t stand much more of the assault.

“Get away from him!” A gruff voice shouted. Emma turned and watched Sandor jump down from the king’s box and unsheathe the sword across his back. He reached the two men just as Gregor’s sword came down again. Sandor’s sword met his brothers, giving Ser Loras enough time to crawl away. Now Gregor’s fury was unleashed on his brother. At one point Gregor swung so hard that Sandor’s stance faltered. Emma jumped to her feet, both of her hands over her heart.

“Enough! Stop, in the name of your king!” Robert finally screamed. Sandor immediately knelt to the king just as Gregor swung his sword at the place where his brother’s head had once been. Gregor glared at the king and slammed his sword to the ground. He started to stalk away but paused in front of Emma. She was seated in the front row and was still standing. Gregor’s eyes passed over her dress-clad body and a disgusting smirk passed over his lips. From the corner of her eyes, Emma saw Sandor slowly stand, almost unsure of whether to approach them or not. A moment later Gregor began to stalk away again.

“Let him go,” Robert commanded the Kingsguard that was blocking the man’s path. Emma looked back over to Sandor who was now looking directly at her. She nodded her head at him and he nodded back ever so slightly.

“We should go inside now Emma,” Ned suggested. Emma turned to her friend and nodded in agreement, no longer interested in the rest of the events. She took one last look over her shoulder before following the Stark’s inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New posting schedule will be every Monday!


	4. A Strange Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor visits the tavern and has a strange encounter with Lady Emma.

Sandor was in the tavern the night following the tourney, his mind filled with several different thoughts. His most pressing thought was the fight he had had with Gregor. His brother was so fucking pig-headed and violent that it even sometimes surprised him. Sandor had not wanted to help the flower knight, the stupid cunt, but he couldn’t just let Gregor kill the poor lad. Luckily King Robert had stopped it all when he had because if he hadn’t Gregor would have fought him to the death.

The second most pressing thought on his mind was Emma. He could still see so clearly the way her body had looked in that tight little dress. He had had a daydream about that little waist of hers earlier in the day. He bet he could grab the whole thing with one of his big hands. Just the thought of grabbing that tiny waist of hers made his cock twitch.

When Gregor had stopped before her she had looked at him with such a fire filled look that Sandor was surprised that his brother hadn’t burst into flames. Then she had turned those very eyes back to him and they had softened into something that Sandor could not describe. She was a beautiful creature, there was no denying that. Unfortunately, his brother had taken notice of the beauty as well, and that was never a good thing. He knew he needed to protect the girl from his brother, not that she needed much protection. She was strong-willed and a fighter, but she was still no match for Gregor Clegane. What his brother wanted his brother usually got, whether the woman was willing or not.

He left the tavern that night very unsatisfied, that is until he saw her. For a moment Sandor thought he had drunk too much ale, but he closed his eyes for a few moments and when he opened them again she was still there. 

Emma was dressed in a man’s tunic and breeches, her long golden hair tucked underneath a cap of some sort and she was laughing at some bawdy joke in front of the whorehouse across the alley from the tavern. At first glance, you would have thought of her as a man, but he would know those eyes anywhere. The eyes that could make him feel both powerful and powerless and, with a single bat of her lashes, could make him do anything she desired. Lust could make men do many a stupid thing.

Sandor watched as Emma told a story of some kind, waving her hands wildly in the air. Everyone around her was captivated and not because they thought she was a woman. She was just a charismatic person who could hold people’s attention and get them all to laugh. She made an obscene gesture with her hand and everyone lost control of themselves. The men around her laughed hysterically and one pushed her jokingly, catching her off guard jostling her. The motion of it all caused her cap to fall off, her mane of golden hair tumbling down to her waist.

The other men watched as her hair cascaded down her back and it took them a moment to figure out what had happened. Emma’s eyes were wide and she instinctively reached towards her side, freezing when she obviously realized that her sword was missing. As soon as they grasped that she was a woman their demeanors immediately changed. The man who had jostled her stepped forward and pinned her against the tree rooted behind her. 

The fire again appeared in Emma’s eyes and Sandor saw her lips moving quickly. It was obviously a threat that the other man didn’t take seriously. He leaned forward and quick as a viper Emma had his precious manhood squeezed in her delicate hand. The man let out a sharp yelp and Sandor decided to go visit Emma and her new friends. He wanted to see how everything played out and if necessary he’d step in. Not for her protection, but for the protection of those poor men. He didn’t want her to do anything stupid like kill them. If she did then Joffrey would not be so forgiving of her crime.

“You men place such a high value on your cocks that finding a weakness is never hard.” Sandor heard her snarl. The man whimpered as she gave him another tight squeeze. The other men around them began to get nervous because they had now figured out what kind of woman they were dealing with. One of the men then noticed Sandor and they were all shivering for a very different reason.

“Not even enough for a handful,” Emma snapped before releasing her victim. The man ran from her and soon the others scattered as well. Emma let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the tree, still unaware of Sandor’s presence.

“Why’s a little lady like you visitin’ a whore house at this late hour?” Sandor asked. Emma jumped and met his gaze directly, still surprising Sandor with her lack of fear. She straightened herself up and bent down to pick up her cap, dusted it off and went to work on pulling her hair back up into it.

“I’m not a lady, and you meet the best kind of people here,” she said with a small smirk. “Better than those vain gossips at court.”

“What’s with the costume?” He questioned. Emma turned to him, obviously surprised at how much he was speaking to her. Sandor knew he was usually the silent type, but something about this girl loosened his tongue. 

“I’m assuming you saw what just happened. Women aren’t looked upon in the best light in this part of town,” she grunted as she got the last of her hair back into the cap. She dusted herself off and started to walk past him when he reached out and grabbed her arm. Emma tensed and looked up into his eyes, clearly remembering the threat she had given him.

“Let me take ya home,” he offered. Emma stared at him for a long time, making Sandor more uncomfortable by the second. If she kept looking at him that way he couldn’t be able to fathom what she could make him do. Finally, she nodded her head and Sandor released her. 

The walk back to the Red Keep was quiet which didn’t seem to bother the two warriors much. They traveled through the streets of King’s Landing with little opposition. People would get one look at the Hound and not dare to come close. Emma must have become slightly uncomfortable with the silence after a while because she started to hum. If Sandor listened closely he could pick up the faint tunes of The Bear and The Maiden Fair.

Sandor was becoming extremely aware of how often Emma would glance at him. A piece of her hair had slipped out from underneath her cap and every time she turned to look at him the piece would catch the moonlight and reflect a golden light back at him.

They finally reached the keep itself and once they were inside Emma removed the cap and let her hair slide down her back. Sandor watched, transfixed, as it moved like water down her body. He could practically feel the silky strands run between his fingers. He shook the thought out of his head and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I should be fine from here. Thank you, Sandor,” Emma muttered before walking in the opposite direction. His name on her lips caught him off guard. It had been surprising but extremely nice to hear. Sandor almost wondered how she knew it but remembered what she said about the court gossips. He took three long steps and easily caught up to the woman, stepping in front of her and forcing her to stop. She casually looked up at him as if she wasn’t wondering what he wanted.

“What did you call me?” He rasped. Emma raised a confused eyebrow and tilted her head. For the first time in his life, Sandor found himself wondering what this woman thought of him. He usually didn’t give two fucks whether someone liked him or not, but she was much more different than anyone he had ever known before.

“Sandor. That is your name, right? Sandor?” She asked curiously. Her voice was free of mocking so she must have been serious.

“I’m a dog, you should treat me like one,” he snarled at her. Emma took a deep and calming breath before speaking. She seemed like she was trying not to get angry and Sandor wondered if there was some personal reason she got so angry when people called him a dog.

“I don’t see you that way, and neither should you,” she said before stepping around him. She took a few steps before turning around and looking at him. He had heard her footsteps stop and turned around to meet her gaze. Those eyes again…

“Goodnight Sandor,” she said with a kind smile before continuing on to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some comments! <3


	5. The New King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma sees a new side to King's Landing.

The day finally came for Emma to leave and she could not pack quickly enough. Her only regret about leaving was that she wouldn’t be seeing Sandor anymore. She had wanted to get to know the man a little more, he interested her like no other person had. Emma finally finished packing her clothes just as the bells started to ring. Tears started to form in her eyes as she realized the meaning behind them. Yesterday while Robert had been out hunting he had been impaled by a boar and it seemed likely for him to die. That bitch, Cersei, had refused Emma the right to see her dying cousin. Luckily Renly had managed to sneak her in to at least say goodbye. The bells were ringing to signal his death.

Emma rushed from the room, desperate to find Ned or any one of the Stark girls for a bit of comfort. As she was running down a corridor she nearly smacked right into Sansa who was running in the opposite direction, a look of panic on her face.

“Sansa, what’s going on?” Emma asked the terrified looking girl, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Something’s wrong. Guards are everywhere and they’re rounding people up,” she replied in a horror-stricken tone. Emma tried to calm her own mind and placed an arm around the younger girl. They started to run down the hall in the direction Emma had come from when Sandor turned the corner. Emma immediately pushed Sansa behind her and backed up as Sandor came closer and closer.

“Let us through,” Emma snarled. Sandor licked his lips and looked her body up and down. Something about the look in his eyes made her stomach twist up and not in a particularly bad way. He had never acted this way before, but if Sansa was right and there was chaos everywhere it wouldn’t surprise her if he had finally decided to take what he wanted.

“We need to see Joffrey,” Sansa declared behind Emma. Sandor sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, his eyes still glued to Emma’s body. For the first time since she’d met him, Emma saw the animal in the Hound’s eyes. It terrified and excited her.

“Who do ya think sent me to get ya?” He asked with a dark smile on his lips. Sandor reached forward for Sansa but Emma pushed the girl back some more.

“Don’t you dare touch her. Where is her father, Lord Stark?” Emma demanded. Sandor just rolled his eyes and grabbed Emma by the arm. In one simple swoop, he put his arm behind her knees and threw her over his shoulder like she was a ragdoll. 

“Let go of me!” Emma screeched as she battered his back with his fists. Sandor only repositioned the screaming woman and motioned for Sansa to follow. He carried her all the way into the throne room and then dropped her unceremoniously onto the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emma snarled, quickly getting to her feet. Her eyes took in the whole of the Kingsguard before her and then even higher up there was Cersei, and sitting next to her on the Iron Throne was that prat Joffrey. Several puddles of blood lay shining on the floor and Emma felt for the knife she kept strapped to her thigh. It would be of little use against the entire Kingsguard, but at least she’d go out fighting.

“My father is dead, Lady Emma. I am the king now,” Joffrey explained with a sadistic little smirk. Emma’s blood boiled at the sight of the little bastard on the throne. He was no king, he was just a boy playing pretend.

“Congratulations,” she deadpanned. “Now if you don’t mind I was packing to get out of this gods-forsaken city and I’d like to get back to it.”

Emma turned to leave but found that Sandor was blocking her path. He stared down at her with a look that challenged her to fight him. Emma met him with an equally challenging look but the man simply shook his head in a silent warning.

“Oh, you’re not leaving,” Joffrey chuckled darkly. Emma looked over her shoulder and frowned in confusion.

“What do you mean?” She asked, fully turning around to face the new royal family. Cersei stood and took a few steps so she was standing just behind one of the knights of the Kingsguard.

“Ned Stark is a traitor. He spread awful lies about Joffrey and his father. He even tried to give my son’s rightful crown to his uncle and your cousin Stannis Baratheon. We can’t let you leave only to have you come with the whole of the Stormcrest army and Stannis at your back,” she explained with a sugary sweet smile.

Emma knew exactly which lies she was talking about. Ned had mentioned something to her about Joffrey’s parentage, but Emma had figured it out long before she was told. Robert, Stannis, and Renly all had dark hair. Stannis’ daughter, Shireen was dark-haired, even Robert’s bastard, the few that she was aware of, had dark hair. The fact that both Cersei and her brother Jaime were golden-haired only confirmed the theory. Joffrey and his siblings were born of incest, meaning that Joffrey was not the future king, but Stannis. She wouldn’t point this out though. Ned was already in trouble and Emma couldn’t help him if she got into trouble as well.

“So, I am to be a prisoner here?” Emma sneered. 

“Of course not, you are our guest,” Cersei countered. Emma growled in her chest and turned once again to leave, this time Sandor moved out of her way and continued to follow her all the way to her room.

“Thank you, Clegane, but I think I can find my own chambers just fine,” she snapped. Sandor grunted and grabbed Emma by the elbow, forcing her to stop and turn to him. She immediately jerked her arm away from him but he stepped even closer. With a small push of her shoulder, Emma found herself caught between the stone wall and the steel chest of the Hound.

“Little advice for you, dove,” he began in that rasping voice of his. He leaned his head in so that his lips brushed her cheek when he spoke. 

“Do what they want and keep yer mouth shut, less pain that way.”

Emma stared up at him in confusion. Why did he care so much? Sandor took her silence as his turn to leave. He backed up, his eyes still burning holes into hers and left without another word. Emma turned to leave when a small voice called out her name.

“Lord Varys?” Emma asked the rotund man. She had only met the man once and he had not left an amazing impression on her. The only thing she remembered thinking about him was that he seemed to know more than he let on. But being the Master of Whispers that didn’t really surprise her.

Varys nodded his head and motioned for her to follow him. Emma hesitated for a moment before following him. He led her through a series of back passages that looked as if no one had used them in years.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked.

“To see a friend,” Varys replied as he led them down a very dark staircase. Emma followed carefully after him, still unsure of what to expect. Luckily Varys soon lit a torch and Emma was able to determine where they had gone. They were in the black cells, the pitch-black dungeon where only the worst traitors and criminals went. Varys stopped in front of one particular cell and motioned her in. Emma hesitated, not sure whether to trust the eunuch, but he gave her a small push inside.

“Ned!” Emma cried when she saw the crumpled body on the floor. She rushed to him and held him in her arms. He brought his weakened arms around her waist and dug his face into her shoulder.

“How are you?” Emma asked once she pulled away. Ned didn’t respond, he just looked up at Emma with a strange emotion in his eyes.

“I asked Varys to bring you here for a reason. If anything should happen to me then I need you to look after my girls,” he declared. Emma was taken aback, what could possibly happen?

“Nothing is going to happen to you! I’ll talk to Joffrey and the Queen. I’ll make them see that you’re innocent!” Emma proclaimed. Ned gripped her wrist with a newfound strength and fixed her with a look that made her silent.

“Do not make matters worse for yourself. We both know your father, if you start causing trouble he’ll come up here to save you. Who knows what they’ll do to him. Just keep my daughters and yourself safe, ok?” He asked. Emma wanted to protest, but she knew that Ned was right. The more trouble she caused the more people were brought in. She couldn’t lose anyone else to the fucking Lannister’s. She swore that she would keep her nose clean and his daughter’s safe and then Lord Varys ushered her out. Little did Emma know that that was the last time she would be seeing Lord Eddard Stark.


	6. Name Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor sees Emma after a long absence.

It had been two days since Ned Stark had been executed and Sandor had yet to see Emma. She hadn’t been at the execution and hadn’t been with Joffrey and Sansa when they went to see the wall of heads. Sandor had recognized Emma’s handmaiden and three of her soldiers up on the spikes. In fact, the only time he heard her name was when Sansa had asked for her. Joffrey had been upset at her absence and had even sent guards to fetch her, but they always came back empty handed.

He assumed she had been locked up in her room or was hiding away from any prying eyes or secret spies. She had taken Ned’s death especially hard and if must have hurt even more coming right after her cousin’s death. Sandor had walked by her door once and heard sobbing coming from inside and had almost crashed through the door. But that wasn’t the kind of man he was. He wasn’t supposed to care about anyone but himself, that’s how it worked for dogs.

Today, however, was King Joffrey’s name day and Emma would have been ordered to attend. Sandor was standing near the edge of the high walkway where knights and warriors of different houses would fight for their new king’s pleasure. He was just about to place his helm on his head when Emma walked onto the royal podium in a lavender sleeveless dress. Her eyes were downcast and a little puffy, as if she had been crying all night. Joffrey turned to her, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Do you like the new wardrobe we provided for you?” He chuckled darkly. Even from this distance, Sandor saw the hateful look she sent to the king. Sandor remembered Joffrey bragging about how they had taken all of her men’s clothing and replaced it with something more suitable for court. He hadn’t heard anything about her sword though, certainly, word would have gotten around about it. Sandor remembered admiring the valryian steel when she had first arrived. Hopefully, she had just hidden it somewhere safe.

Emma sank into the seat next to Sansa and gave her friend a comforting pat on the hand. Joffrey was too busy watching the knights get ready to see the small thankful smile on Sansa’s lips. Emma turned her icy blue eyes onto him and something close to nerves fluttered in Sandor’s stomach.

“Get on with it!” Joffrey screamed. Sandor nodded his head and fully placed his helm onto his head. Today he had forgone his sword in favor of a mace, for there was very little room for swords up here, and had picked up a shield per the king’s request. He knew he wouldn’t need it, but it was an order.

The master-at-arms waved his hand and the fight began. Sandor was an offensive fighter and immediately went on the attack. He didn’t know the other knight’s name but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving and knocking his opponent off the walkway. 

The man was almost too easy of a fight and it was over much too quickly. The other knight favored his left side, meaning he had an injury on his right. With a couple of well-placed blows, he soon went flying over the small wall and down onto the concrete floor below. The man had landed one lucky hit on Sandor’s head, but it hadn’t hurt much. Applause sounded and Sandor lifted up his visor to take in the crowd. Joffrey was clapping obnoxiously, Sansa politely, and Emma was clapping in almost admiration. Her family was full of warriors, so she must know more about fighting than most people at court.

“Well struck dog!” Joffrey proclaimed as Sandor made his way up to the platform. He took off his helm fully and stood right behind Emma’s chair. Emma glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes taking in his full form. Sandor couldn’t help but notice how her golden hair contrasted nicely against the purple of her dress. He forced himself to look away, cursing at himself for admiring such a trivial thing.

“What did you think my lady?” Joffrey asked Sansa. The young girl tensed under the sudden attention and her eyes darted quickly to Emma. The older woman gave a reassuring smile and Sansa turned fully to the king.

“It was well struck Your Grace,” she said stiffly, almost as if she were reading from a script. Joffrey frowned and took a few menacing steps towards her. Emma tensed and her hand drifted almost casually to her right hip. Sandor looked closely and could barely make out the outline of a dagger. He couldn’t hold in the smirk that crossed his lips; she was smart and very, very brave.

“That’s what I just said. What about you, lady Emma?” Joffrey’s smirk had returned and he stood directly in front of Emma. Emma looked up almost lazily at the king and she turned her body around to look back at Sandor.

“It was well struck, and you noticed his previous injury almost immediately. I commend you on an excellent match,” she said in a level voice that could rival a seasoned courtier. She turned back to Joffrey to judge his reaction but the king had already turned his attention elsewhere. Sandor was about to move again when Emma’s head turned towards him yet again.

“Congratulations on your new cloak,” she smirked, her eyes flicking from the golden crown on his chest to the white cloak that was lying at his feet. Sandor would have made some kind of remark, something about how he had not wanted to be made a member of the Kingsguard, but an interruption from the king stalled him.

“Ser Meryn, see to it that Ser Dontos drinks his fill,” Joffrey snarled. Apparently, Ser Dontos had turned up late and rather drunk to the tourney and now a new form of entertainment was being provided. Ser Meryn nodded to the king and retrieved a large wine barrel that sat opposite of him. Two other members of the Kingsguard held Ser Dontos down, a horn funnel stuffed in his mouth, as Ser Meryn drowned the man with wine.

“Stop it, you can’t!” Sansa shrieked. Joffrey snarled and rounded on Sansa. Emma placed a hand on top of Sansa’s, a cautious look in her eyes. The way her muscles were tensed made it seem like she was about to jump in front of the young girl to save her from Joffrey’s wrath.

“Did you just tell me that I can’t?” Joffrey growled. Emma tightened her fingers on Sansa’s hand and Sandor noticed her lift from her seat just slightly.

“You can’t kill a man on your name day, it is bad luck,” Sansa said quickly, trying to save face. Joffrey scoffed and mumbled something about Northern fairytales. Emma sat back down but did not relax her body.

“She’s right.” Sandor even surprised himself with his words. “What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year.”

“Leave the fool,” Joffrey commanded begrudgingly.

“You are right, Your Grace. He is a fool. He’d make a much better fool than a knight,” Sansa said with a small smile. Joffrey contemplated this for a moment before turning to the disgraced man.

“Did you hear that Ser, my lady bids me make you a fool. How do you feel about that?” Joffrey sneered. Dontos nodded his head at Sansa before Ser Meryn dragged him away. Emma started to remove her hand, but Sansa quickly reached out and retrieved it again. 

“Beloved nephew!” A voice rang out. Everyone turned and gasped at the sight of Lord Tyrion walking towards the king. He was followed by another man, Sandor could only assume he was a hired sword. Tyrion greeted Tommen and Myrcella and made some backhanded comment about Sandor, but he wasn’t paying attention. What he was paying attention to were the looks being exchanged between Emma and the imp’s sellsword. 

Emma’s eyelids had drooped seductively and if Sandor was not mistaken, she had rolled her shoulders back so that her chest stuck out. The sellsword had a lazy smirk on his lips and had tilted his hips casually, a hand on the hilt of his sword. The emotions swirling in Sandor’s chest scared and confused him. He was angry about the looks they were sharing, but he was also a little sad. He took a deep breath and tried to push everything out of his mind.

“Lady Emma?” Tyrion asked. Emma’s eyes finally left the sellsword and a smile appeared across her lips.

“Lord Tyrion, how do you fair?” She asked and held out her hand. Tyrion grabbed it and placed a sweet kiss across her knuckles. The simple gesture made Sandor want to snarl, but he managed to keep it in.

“Much better now that I see your beautiful face,” he smirked. Emma laughed aloud and swatted the man playfully. It seemed as if the two were well acquainted but that wasn’t surprising. They both had very similar personalities and had probably been introduced years ago when they were younger.

“Enjoy your name day, Your Grace. Wish I could stay to enjoy it, but there is work to be done,” Tyrion smiled and started to walk away. Joffrey started to say something again, but Sandor’s attention was back on Emma. The sellsword bowed to her and a slow seductive smile spread across her lips. The man winked as he turned and Sandor detected a small blush across Emma’s cheeks.

“You ladies can go, I’m sick of your presence,” Joffrey snapped. Sansa stood and curtsied, but Emma simply stood, waited for Sansa and left with the girl. The fact that she had not curtsied seemed to irk Joffrey and Sandor could see the wheels turning in the boy’s head. Emma was sure to be in for a sick surprise.


	7. Author Note

Hey you guys, so there's not going to be a chapter today. My cat of 16 years died and I was unable to finish the chapter. I'm going to post it tomorrow, but today is just an off day for me. Sorry you guys.


	8. Bend the Knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is summoned by Joffrey and learns of Meryn Trant's viciousness.

Emma was sitting at her desk, writing some letters, when a messenger arrived from her brother. She hadn’t heard from any of her family since she had arrived at King’s Landing, so she was understandably surprised. She took the folded piece of cream paper and dismissed the servant with an impatient wave of her hand.

The bright blue wax seal that bore the Stormcrest sigil had been cracked already. Obviously, Joffrey was monitoring any sort of letters and correspondence she received. Emma sighed and unfolded the paper, but just as she was about to read it a knock on her door made her jump. With the paper, still in hand, she rose and quickly crossed to the door.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked the giant figure of Sandor Clegane. The man didn’t say a word, he only jerked his head and motioned for her to follow him. Emma hesitated but eventually followed him, the forgotten letter still in her hand.

“Is there a reason for this sudden summons?” Emma guessed. The only reason she would be following Sandor is if Joffrey himself summoned her. Sandor didn’t reply, instead, he stopped her just outside of the throne room and studied her face for a long moment. 

He took in the sight of her body, clad in a dark purple, long-sleeved dress. The dress pulled in at her waist and billowed out at the hips and the sleeves pulled in tight at her wrists instead of the long flowing sleeves the other ladies of the court preferred. Her neckline was a little low, but still considerably modest. Emma felt her face heat up as his eyes dragged ever so slowly over her body, almost like he was memorizing it.

“What are you doing?” She asked suspiciously. His eyes locked on hers again and he closed the space between them. A large hand brushed against her waist and instead of jumping away, Emma felt herself wanting to melt into the touch. His lips were parted and a sweet sigh of desire left his mouth. Sandor finally moved his hand away and Emma let out a similar breath of air.

“Be careful,” he rasped out before opening the doors.

When they finally entered the room, the first thing Emma witnessed was Ser Meryn Trant ripping the back of Sansa’s dress open. Emma gasped and raced towards her sobbing friend, pushing the older man out of the way. Ser Meryn growled at her but Emma met him with a look that stopped the seasoned knight in his tracks. There was no doubting that she was a warrior now, her eyes held a promise of death if the man stepped any closer. A promise she was more than ready to keep.

“What is going on here?” Emma snarled. She first looked to Sansa, then back at Sandor, then again up to Ser Meryn, before finally looking to Joffrey.

“Her brother is a traitor,” Joffrey snarled back as if it were that simple.

“So, you have her beaten?” Emma growled. Joffrey looked away from them and Emma helped Sansa to her feet. Both of the young women tensed at the sound of footsteps behind them, but to both of their surprise, it was only Sandor, offering his white cloak to Sansa. Emma couldn’t help the look of gratitude that flashed across her face at the sweet gesture. Emma draped the cloak over the young girl and made sure that she was covered.

“I summoned you for a reason, my Lady,” Joffrey announced to Emma. Emma handed Sansa off to Sandor and made sure she was in the safety of her maids before she deigned to turn to Joffrey.

“And what reason is that?” Emma snapped defiantly as she made her way to the center of the room. She was so angry at the moment that she didn’t care if she came off as sounding crude. She had seen the bruises and cuts on Sansa’s body, obviously the king had had Ser Meryn beat the poor girl. Joffrey looked startled at her furious tone of voice, but continued anyway.

“I heard you received a letter from your brother today,” he explained, a knowing smirk growing across his thin lips. Emma glanced down at her hands and became confused when she realized that she was no longer holding the letter. The young woman turned to the older knight next to her and saw him waving a piece of paper in the air. Emma must have dropped it when she ran to Sansa, only to have Ser Meryn pick it up.

“Bring it here Ser Meryn, let us see what it says,” Joffrey announced and took a few steps away from his throne. Emma forced herself not to mention the fact that the seal had been broken prior to her receiving it, so someone in his counsel must have already read it. Joffrey snatched up the piece of paper and quickly scanned the contents of the letter. A sinister smirk spread across his lips and he laughed aloud as he reached the end of it.

“Have you read this yet, my Lady?” The king asked, a smile still plastered on his face.

“I was interrupted before I could,” she snapped back. A deep chuckle poured from Joffrey’s mouth as he turned back to the letter again.

“’Dear Sister’,” Joffrey quoted. Everyone was silent with rapt attention, desperate to know the letter's contents. “’It is my grave duty to inform you that our beloved father passed away three nights ago. I would have written you sooner, but I did not want to ruin your fun in King’s Landing. Now though, since you seem to have extended your stay, I have decided to write you.’”

Everyone turned to Emma as Joffrey paused is his recitation. Her bright blue eyes had become dim and filled with watery tears. Her shoulder slumped forward and it took all of her strength to remain standing and not fall to her knees. She knew her father had been ill, but she hadn’t known how serious it was. She refused to cry in front of Joffrey though, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

“It seems as if your half-brother is now Lord Stormcrest. How does that make you feel?” Joffrey asked. He was baiting her now, Emma could tell. He wanted to know if she was ambitious, if she wanted to be the head of House Stormcrest. In that moment Emma knew that Joffrey was smarter than anyone realized. The king knew that if Emma was Lady Stormcrest there would be little stopping her from leaving and possibly exacting revenge. For her brother was a weak man, and would make an even weaker lord. A lord that would be malleable and easy to manipulate.

“I am happy for my brother, I wish him the greatest fortune with his new title,” Emma lied gracefully. Joffrey seemed to buy this because he frowned deeply before turning to the letter one more time.

“There is one last bit here that might interest you. In fact, it may interest someone else in the court as well.” The smirk returned to Joffrey’s lips as he looked around the court, searching for the person. Emma followed his eyes and found herself looking at the two Clegane brothers. Gregor must have slipped in while the king was reading and he stood a few feet away from his brother.

“What does it say?” Emma demanded impatiently. Joffrey laughed and hesitated before reading the rest, keeping everyone in the throne room in suspense. 

“’It should give you much pleasure to hear that I have created a marriage contract for you. King Joffrey and I have talked at length and we decided that the best husband to be found for you is in House Clegane. You are to marry one of the Clegane brothers, which one is to be decided at the king’s pleasure. Seven blessings sister, I hope you are happy with this turn of events. Your loving brother, Lord Daltis Stormcrest.’” 

Joffrey finally finished and glanced up to see Emma’s reaction. All the color had drained from her face and it seemed like she might be sick. The king slowly approached her and placed an arm around her shoulder. Emma was too shocked to even shake him off and allowed Joffrey to turn her so that they were facing the Clegane brothers.

“Now, which one should I choose for you?” Joffrey chuckled and stroked his chin with his free hand. Emma’s eyes instantly went to Sandor and knew that if it had to be either of them she would prefer Sandor. Gregor was a terrifying person and would probably make a horrible husband. Emma could already see the beatings and rapes she would receive at that man’s hands.

Sandor refused to look at her, but Gregor, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at her. He had a horrifying grin on his face that made Emma start to shiver. Joffrey released Emma and stepped towards the two brothers.

“It would be nice to mate my dog and get pups. Wouldn’t you like that dog? She is a beautiful creature, I bet you can’t wait to mount her,” Joffrey teased. Emma couldn’t help but notice the way Sandor’s hand clenched at his side. His face didn’t seem sexually frustrated, instead it was angry, like he couldn’t believe Joffrey was talking about her like that.

“No, no, I think the better option is you, Ser Gregor. You are Lord Clegane and the lady deserves a knight, not a dog,” Joffrey continued. Emma’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in protest, but a warning glance from Sandor quieted her.

“I’ve decided! Emma Stormcrest, you shall marry Ser Gregor Clegane!” Joffrey looked around the court and frowned when no one applauded. Someone started a slow clap and soon everyone was applauding politely. Emma felt her knees grow weak and would’ve fallen had Ser Gregor not approached her and grabbed onto her shoulder. She immediately shrank from his touch, but his grip only tightened at her struggling.

“The Mountain had been called to Harrenhal to help my grandfather, but when he returns you two shall wed. Isn’t that lovely?” Joffrey asked, returning to his seat on the throne. Emma nodded very stiffly and watched as her newly betrothed walked out of the throne room, obviously taking Joffrey’s words as an order to leave. She let out an extremely shaky breath and started to follow him but she stopped when Joffrey called out her name again.

“One more thing my lady,” he smirked at her. Emma froze, her back to the king, as a silent war waged inside of her. Finally, she turned and walked back into the center of the room, a new kind of strength in her belly. Maybe it was her anger or frustration, but soon Emma felt ready for a fight.

“My father and his Targaryen predecessors have been far too kind to your family. I believe it is finally time for you to bend the knee to me, especially now that you are marrying into a family sworn to me,” he said with a sadistic little smirk on his face. Emma couldn’t help the look of pure rage that crossed her features. That demand was to be the one to make her snap.

“We have never bowed to a king, and we never will,” she said through gritted teeth. Joffrey sneered and grabbed the hilt of one of the swords in the throne tightly, his face almost unreadable. 

The king nodded to Ser Meryn and suddenly the knight struck Emma across the face with such a force that she stumbled, momentarily dazed. The people crowded in the throne room all gasped as Ser Meryn continued to strike the woman. At one point Emma dodged a fist, still a little stunned from the first hit, and landed a solid blow on Ser Meryn’s jaw. That only made the knight angrier and he returned the punch with one that split open Emma’s lip.

“Bend the knee,” Ser Meryn hissed to Emma as he rubbed his jaw. Emma turned to face him, bruises lining her cheek and a large cut down the right side of her face. She said nothing for a long moment and then she spat a mouthful of blood right into the knight’s face. Ser Meryn roared and punched her in the stomach, causing her to double over. Emma let out a gasp and fell to her knees, pain exploding from nearly every part of her body. The knight’s foot came swinging forward and hit her square in the chest, causing her to sprawl across the floor.

“What kind of a knight beats young women?” A voice called from the doors. Everyone turned and saw Tyrion Lannister and his sellsword, Bronn, enter the room. By the time the two men reached Emma she was back on her knees, slowly getting back to her feet. It was encouraging to most to see her at least trying to get back up, especially after the beating she had taken.

“The kind who serves his king, imp,” Ser Meryn fired back.

“Careful now, we don’t want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak,” Bronn threatened, a teasing sort of lilt behind his words. Ser Meryn frowned and turned back to face Joffrey, annoyed at being addressed by a common sellsword. Emma gasped when a hand touched her shoulder, but she relaxed slightly when she saw that it was only Bronn. She smiled her thanks at him and allowed the man to pull her to her feet. She leaned heavily against his shoulder but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Tyrion turned towards Emma, concern in his eyes, and all Emma had to do was nod her head to show that she was alright.

“The king can do as he likes!” Joffrey whined. Tyrion rolled his eyes and turned back towards his nephew.

“The Mad King did as he liked. Did your Uncle Jaime tell you how things turned out for him?” Tyrion asked darkly. Ser Meryn approached the two, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Emma steadied herself as Bronn took a few steps closer to Tyrion. She watched the whole scene with bated breath. 

“No one threatens the king in the presence of the Kingsguard!” Ser Meryn shouted. Tyrion slowly turned to the knight, boredom in his eyes.

“I was not threatening the king, only educating my nephew,” Tyrion explained. Then Tyrion turned to Bronn, a sort of teasing look in his eyes.

“Bronn, next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him.” Bronn smirked and turned to the white cloaked knight. Tyrion turned back as well, a serious expression on his face. “That was a threat, see the difference?”

Bronn returned to Emma’s side, certain that Ser Meryn would be no threat. Tyrion turned and approached Emma with worry in his eyes. Bronn took hold of Emma’s elbow and started to lead her out of the room. The woman stopped, her eyes searching the room.

“Sansa,” she croaked out, looking down at Tyrion. The shorter man nodded and turned towards the red-headed girl. He walked confidently to the other side of the room and offered his hand to the young girl. Sansa hesitated for a moment before accepting and allowing Tyrion to lead her from the room. Emma and Bronn followed and before they left Emma shot a look over her shoulder towards Sandor. 

Had he known something like this was going to happen? Was that what their brief moment outside the doors had been about? Sandor was looking at Bronn, an almost jealous look in his eyes that confused and intrigued Emma.

“How is my face?” Emma asked as they walked down the hallway to her room. Her lip stung and several areas on her cheeks were pulsing. Bronn stopped them and turned Emma to look at her fully. His grey eyes took her in and a slow smirk spread across his lips.

“I’d still fuck ya, love,” he replied in his thick Northern accent. Emma blushed and lowered her eyes, making Bronn laugh. Men had never acted this way around her before and she liked it, probably liked it more than she should.

“Thank you,” she giggled before continuing towards her room. Bronn dropped her off and wouldn’t leave until Emma practically shoved him out. She appreciated his concern, but she really needed some alone time right now.

“If ya need anything, I’m your man,” he promised before finally walking away. Emma closed the door behind the sellsword and slumped against the thick wood. Now she finally allowed herself to cry as everything came flooding back to her.

Her father’s death, her new betrothal, and her recent beating all felt like weights on her chest and she soon found that she could no longer breathe. Panic set in and Emma jumped to her feet, flinging open the door and sprinting through the hallways. The woman didn’t pay attention to where her feet were going and soon found herself in the moonlit gardens. She took several deep breaths, but the tightness in her chest remained.

Emma continued to walk, her breaths coming out in short pants. Her cuts and bruises stung and the split in her bottom lip had started to bleed again. She paid no attention to any of these things and instead put all of her thoughts towards moving one foot in front of the other.

“Somethin’ troubling ya?” A deep voice rumbled. Emma jumped and froze in place. The voice was similar to Gregor’s and a fear she had never felt before shot through her body. Emma turned her head slowly and let out a giant sigh of relief when she saw that it was only Sandor.

“Were you not paying attention in the throne room earlier?” She asked, fully turning to face the large man and gesturing to her face. Sandor had his hand placed casually on his sword and a concerned look was in his eyes. He took in the bruises and cuts that lined her cheeks and jaw and watched as the blood continued to drip down her chin. Sandor reached into his waist belt and pulled out a crumpled, white handkerchief. He stepped forward and with a gentleness she was unaware a man like the Hound could possess, he reached out and wiped the blood from her skin.

“Thank you,” she said softly when he had finished. Sandor nodded and the two stood together for a few silent moments. Emma could feel Sandor’s eyes on her face, taking in every cut and bruise that Ser Meryn had left on her skin.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” he finally spoke, gesturing to her beaten face.

“Did you know?” She asked him suspiciously. Sandor met her gaze, a look of hurt passing behind his eyes and Emma immediately had her answer. He would have tried to stop it if he had known.

“I knew he wanted you to bend the knee. The beating was a surprise,” he confessed.

Emma closed her eyes, willing the tears away, but this time it was too hard to stop. A sob wracked through Emma’s body and she felt her body fall to the ground. The clink of armor meant that Sandor had jumped at her sudden movement and soon he had a hand on her elbow and was pulling her up. He led her to a nearby stone bench and sat silently by her side as she continued to weep.

“I feel so alone here. Ned and Robert are gone, Renly is gone, Arya’s gone, and Sansa may as well be lost to me. I’ve failed in my promise to keep the Stark girl’s safe and now even my own brother has turned against me. I face regular beatings if I don’t bend the knee and I have no chance of ever escaping this horrible place.”

Emma continued to let the sobs wrack her body, still completely aware of how close Sandor was. She knew he was probably thinking that she was being stupid and weak. A warrior as great as herself shouldn’t cry and she certainly shouldn’t cry in front of men like him.

“Yer not alone.”

The young woman looked up in surprise, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her gown. Sandor was looking down at his hands, but she knew that he was speaking to her. He hesitated for a long moment before turning his brown eyes to her.

“What do you mean I’m not alone? I have almost no friends in court, no family, and very little hope to go on,” she snapped back. Frustrated, Emma stood to leave, but Sandor was quicker and grabbed hold of her wrist. Emma looked down at the giant hand that encircled her small arm and then looked back up into the scarred face of the Hound. He stood slowly and pulled her in close. The feeling of wanting to melt into his touch returned and Emma found her entire body to be aflame with desire.

“Yer not alone because you have me,” he whispered. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him and for one moment Emma wondered if Sandor was going to kiss her. When he pulled away Emma couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that washed over her.

“I’ll take ya to yer room now,” he whispered hoarsely. Emma nodded and followed behind him in a sort of daze. The silence on the way back was not a comfortable one; it was filled with tension and something that neither of them could describe. When they reached her room both of the warriors paused, avoiding eye contact with the other.

A strong urge rose in Emma’s chest and she knew that if she didn’t act on it now then she would probably never get the chance again. As Sandor turned to leave she jumped in front of him, stood on her toes, and kissed the left side of his face. A blush darkened her cheeks and she rushed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Once she was safe from his gaze a large goofy grin spread across her lips and a new kind of confidence rose in her belly. Maybe she wasn’t as completely alone as she first thought.


	9. Dreams of Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor has some interesting thoughts while he lays in bed.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, Sandor stroked the spot on his face where Emma had kissed him. He had been shocked at first just because she had kissed him, then he had realized that her kiss had been on the scarred side of his face. He could still feel the gentle and shy press of her lips, could feel how soft her skin was, could still smell her scent of wildflowers and the tiniest hint of blood from her lip.

Sandor rolled over in bed so that he faced the wall. He always kept his bed as close to the wall as possible so that if anyone came into his room there would only be one way to get to him. He was trying to push all thoughts of Emma out of his mind but it was proving difficult. 

The one thing that kept replaying over and over in his mind was Meryn Trant beating her. At the first smack, Sandor had become enraged and would have charged the knight had the king not been there. He admired the fact that she had at least tried to fight back, that blow that she landed on Ser Meryn had made a smirk bloom across Sandor’s lips. And then that smile quickly faded when Bronn had put his hands on Emma.

Something about that man rubbed Sandor the wrong way, but he couldn’t exactly tell Emma that. She would call him jealous and he would have to deny it which would only prove her point further. But it was true, Sandor wasn’t ashamed to admit it to himself. He was jealous of Bronn because he had a better chance with Emma than he did. Bronn was handsome and ambitious and had the patronage of a very wealthy and influential man.

Emma could never be with an old dog like him. He could give her no lands, no titles, no power. She was Lady Stormcrest, she deserved more than him, and much more than his brother. He was scarred and brutish, and while he had the trust of the king all anyone ever saw when they looked at him was a disfigured dog. He had never seen fear or disgust in Emma’s eyes, but she was probably used to seeing ugly battle scars. She probably even had a few herself.

Sandor didn’t deserve Emma’s love or the love of any woman for that matter. Whores and ale were his only comforts in life and that was all he needed. Just thinking about his feelings for the woman made him angry. He began to question all of their interactions in his mind to try and see if she had some ulterior motive. She continually insisted that he shouldn’t be treated like a dog and then she’d smile at him. Smile! And not one of those mocking smiles that the cunt Joffrey was so famous for. Hers were kind. What kind of game was she playing?

And those eyes… Sandor decided then and there that those eyes of hers would be the death of him. He knew that he’d do whatever she asked if she looked at him a certain way and he hated her for it. He hated her for making him weak, for making him care about someone other than himself. He hated how she had wormed under his skin and he especially hated the fact that all he could think of lately was her.

Sleep escaped Sandor that night. His thoughts were flipping between Emma, his hatred of her, his intense feelings for her, and thinking of ways to get her out of her marriage to his brother. At one point, he managed to fall asleep and woke up only an hour later, sweat dripping from his body. The dream he had been having had been so intense and real that he wondered if it had actually happened.

His dream had started off normally enough, well, normally enough for him anyways. He was training in the gardens at midnight with a faceless knight and of course, he had won. He turned and started to remove his armor when he saw her. Emma was standing in an archway, watching him with one of those smirks on her face. Her golden hair was loose and shining in the moonlight, her eyes like two sapphires. Her dress was flimsy and loose, like the kind of dresses the whores wore in the brothels. Something in Sandor’s mind screamed at him to approach her and once he reached the woman she grabbed his hand and started to lead him away. 

It took Sandor a minute to realize where she had taken him once they approached a large door. It was the King’s bedchamber. He didn’t question her choice, instead, he watched as she approached him and continued to remove his armor for him. It felt strange to have someone else there to help him, it was almost as intimate as someone seeing him naked. He almost always wore armor around court and to have her see him without it was a little strange. Once he was only in his linen undershirt and pants he turned to her.

She was setting his shoulder plate down, that delicious smirk still on her rose-pink lips. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up and into his chest. Her eyelids were drooped seductively and something stirred deep in Sandor’s chest at the sight. Without another moment’s hesitation, he brought his lips down onto hers, holding her body close. When she kissed him back hungrily he couldn’t control the growl that ripped from his throat.

She pulled away from him and pushed him down onto the massive bed, a dominating glint in her eyes. Sandor lay back and watched as she pulled at the strings around her shoulder, loosening the gown even more. His hands itched to touch her, but Emma’s eyes held a warning that if he did there would be consequences. Finally, her dress fell into a pool at her feet, the material catching slightly at her breasts and hips. Sandor’s brain was overloaded at the sight of all this newly exposed cream flesh. Her breasts were perfectly round and firm, her waist even more tempting than it had been in her dress, and her plump little ass almost seemed to beg for him to touch it.

“Take them off,” she commanded hoarsely, gesturing to his remaining clothing. Sandor obeyed immediately, refusing to take his eyes off of her. He pulled his shirt over his head and watched as her eyes dragged across his chest. He tossed his pants into the corner of the room and saw the smirk grow on her lips at the sight of his manhood.

She pushed him back down and hopped onto the bed, her knees resting on either side of his hips so that she straddled him. Sandor couldn’t help but admire her face, which was now free of any bruises. Her almond-shaped eyes were lined with thick lashes and her plump lips were pursed teasingly. He noticed that there was a ring of gold around her pupil, but it was so thin that he could only see it when they were this close.

“I want you,” he snarled. Emma chuckled and stroked the scarred side of his face with an almost loving hand. He leaned into her touch, enjoying the feeling more than he should have. She placed a small kiss on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and finally on his chin.

Getting frustrated with her lack of anything, Sandor gripped her waist in both hands and flipped them over so that he was now hovering over her. He was suddenly very aware of the size difference between them. Her tiny body was easily covered by his giant one. Sandor took immense pleasure in the fact that he could easily carry her around and dominate her. He would let her dominate him every once in a while, but he liked to be in charge more. He tangled a hand in her hair and leaned in, capturing her lips in yet another intense kiss. Emma moaned into his mouth and locked her legs around his thick waist in invitation. Sandor wasted no time in sinking his full length inside of her.

“Sandor,” Emma moaned as his hips moved against hers. Sandor growled and buried his face into the side of Emma’s neck. Her moans and whimpers encouraged him and soon he was slamming into her. His name fell like a prayer from her mouth and Sandor soon found that he was reaching his peak. It would be over much too soon, but he knew that she was just starting with him. There would be more time for exploring and taking their time later.

“Emma,” he moaned in warning. Emma nodded in reply and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. Soon they both cried out in ecstasy and Sandor collapsed on top of Emma. He went to move off of her, afraid of crushing the woman, but Emma grabbed his shoulders and held him tight to her.

“’M heavy,” he rumbled sleepily into her skin.

“I like it,” she purred right back. Sandor smiled, warm feelings exploding in his chest like fireworks. Emma ran her fingers along his back, tracing imaginary patterns and making his skin tingle.

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck. Sandor raised himself onto his elbows and looked down at her. He saw the nervousness in her eyes, but he knew that what she had said was the truth.

“I love ya too, little bird,” he whispered back, leaning down and placing yet another kiss on her lips.

 

That was when Sandor had woken back up. The sex wasn’t the part that had scared him, that part had been rather exciting. It was the fact that he had told someone that he loved them. It was made much worse by the fact that the person had been Emma. He had never said those words to anyone, let alone felt those feelings.

He knew that after tonight his relationship with Emma would be forever changed. He couldn’t let his brother marry her, nor could he let that sellsword Bronn near her. He had known from the very first moment that she was different and deserved so much better. He needed to get her out of King’s Landing and somewhere safe.

It was obvious to him that they could never be together, but if she found happiness with some High Lord then that would make him a little bit happy. Maybe he could even offer his services as her personal sword. That way he could remain close and keep her safe. Then he wouldn’t be completely without her in his life. It was selfish of him he knew, but the thought of her being taken from him hurt too much for him to think about. He tried to go back to sleep, well aware that his dreams would all be filled with more of the same.


	10. Meeting with the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei makes a surprise visit.

Emma awoke to a strong knocking on her door. She yawned and pulled on one of her thicker robes, peeved at the early visitor. She opened the door only to find herself face to face with Ser Meryn Trant’s golden chest. Emma instinctively reached up to her bruised face, something that Ser Meryn took full notice of. It had been several days since her public beating and the injuries were healing quickly thanks to an ointment that Tyrion had given her, but her left eye was still a little swollen and her cheek throbbed every time she chewed food.

“Can I help you, Ser?” Emma asked, flinching slightly at the timid tone her voice took. Ser Meryn remained silent and stepped to the side to reveal the actual guest. That was when Emma noticed Cersei Lannister standing in the hall, dressed elegantly in a red and gold gown. Emma’s eyes widened in confusion as the Queen Regent approached her with a determined look on her features.

“Your Grace, what can I do for you?” Emma asked suspiciously. Cersei pushed past Emma into the quite lavish room. Emma frowned at the rude intrusion, but decided to remain silent. The Queen Regent looked around and scrutinized everything about Emma’s bedchamber, from her bright blue sheets to the large bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“And to what do I owe this visit?” Emma snapped and closed the door in Ser Meryn’s face. Cersei didn’t answer immediately, instead she went straight to Emma’s wine jug and poured herself a generous cup. That didn’t surprise the younger woman since the Queen’s penchant for wine was widely known. What did surprise her was the fact that Cersei also poured another cup for Emma. The young woman eyed the Queen Regent suspiciously before accepting the cup and taking a long sip.

“Why will you not submit to my son?” Cersei asked bluntly. Emma raised an eyebrow and casually strolled to her window, deciding to make the woman wait for her answer. Looking down into the courtyard she noticed Joffrey and Sansa walking together, Sandor just steps behind them. Emma relaxed a little knowing that Sandor would take care of Sansa for her. Emma wished she could always be with the young girl, but Joffrey seemed to want complete control of the red-haired beauty.

“You mean the son that betrothed me to Gregor Clegane and then had Ser Meryn beat me?” Emma finally growled out. She looked up and caught the older woman’s surprising reaction. Cersei was frowning and had a look of extreme distaste on her features. She may have been a cold-hearted bitch, but the beating of another woman seemed not to sit right with her.

“That was unfortunate. I wouldn’t have condoned it, but Joffrey needs as much support as he can get. And with the Stormcrest army at his back he could be unstoppable,” Cersei explained. Emma placed a hand on her hip and saddled Cersei with an incredible look. 

“My father wouldn’t even give our army to your late husband, and my dear cousin, Robert. What makes you think that my brother will give it to Joffrey?” Emma asked. Cersei shot Emma a look that had the younger woman feeling very confused.

“We both know who is really in control of the Stormcrest army. If you bend the knee your brother will soon follow. You may be a bastard, but your brother is weak and easily influenced by you. He’d follow you to the Wall if you told him to.” The look on Cersei’s face was a mix of confidence and knowing. Emma knew the woman was right, but she couldn’t admit it to her. That would give Cersei some power that Emma wasn’t exactly willing to give.

“Cersei, our house words are “We will not bow”. You and your son think that it is so easy for us to just obey. I have almost five hundred years’ worth of legacy to keep up. Surely you know a little something about keeping up a legacy,” Emma countered. Cersei nodded her head silently, taking another sip of her wine.

“Your cousin Stannis has decided to sail to King’s Landing, he plans to take the realm and make himself king,” the older woman explained.

“Renly has made similar claims,” Emma responded.

“You and I both know that Stannis is the greater threat. Renly is only backed by the Tyrell’s. That family isn’t exactly known for their army.” Cersei was now pacing back and forth. Emma found their conversation unnerving. It wasn’t the context but rather how easy and familiar they were speaking with each other. Cersei needed Emma’s help and Emma suddenly felt extremely powerful.

“Renly has the confidence, but none of the experience. He’s a boy pretending to be a king. He’s only a threat because the Tyrell’s supply most of the food to King’s Landing, and without them we’ll all starve. It also doesn’t help that they’re the richest house in all the seven kingdoms,” Emma said with a heavy sigh. Cersei glanced at the younger woman and seemed to realize how civil they were acting. She slammed her glass down, making Emma jump.

“You will bow to Joffrey,” she demanded. Emma stared Cersei down and emptied her own cup before answering.

“And if I don’t? You already have me marrying the Mountain, what more could you possibly do to me? Torture and death would be welcome because then I wouldn’t have to marry that beast of a man.”

It seemed as if Cersei hadn’t considered this because her face froze. Emma brushed past Cersei and opened the door back up. Ser Meryn looked back at them but Emma’s eyes were still on the Queen Regent.

“Thank you for the visit Your Grace. I suppose I shall see you tomorrow at your daughter’s departure.”

Those words seemed to hit Cersei directly in her cold heart. Only last night Emma had received a note from Tyrion telling her of his plan to send Myrcella to Dorne. He claimed it was for her protection, but Emma knew Tyrion better than that. He was punishing Cersei all the while securing an alliance with Dorne. It was a brilliant and extremely dangerous plan.

“I’m a Lannister. I am not scared of a storm,” the Queen hissed. Emma chuckled and took a step closer to Cersei. Ser Meryn watched the two of them carefully, his hand on his sword.

“Everyone is afraid of storms. They’re the only enemy you can’t fight with swords and arrows. You can lock yourself in your castles and keeps, but the storm will keep beating at you until you’re left with nothing but ruins.”

Cersei’s face paled and even Ser Meryn shifted uncomfortably at her words. Emma had just directly threatened the royal family, but she knew that they wouldn’t do anything to her. Cersei and Joffrey needed her army and her support more than ever and they couldn’t risk killing Emma. After all, Cersei had said it herself, Emma could easily control her brother.

“My Lady,” Cersei hissed and stormed out of the room, Ser Meryn following closely behind her. Emma slammed her door shut and returned to the window, disappointed but not entirely surprised to see that the trio was now gone. 

“Are you ready to dress, my Lady?” Emma’s new handmaid asked. Emma nodded her head silently, not trusting of this new woman yet. She was a Lannister spy, that was for certain, so Emma had to be careful with her words. The girl dressed Emma in a lovely gown of pale blue silk that had a very beautiful and intricate gold rose pattern near her feet. Just looking at the roses gave Emma the urge to take a stroll through the gardens.

As she was walking down the hall, a voice caught her attention. At first, she wasn’t sure who it was, but as she got closer it became more obvious. Lord Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger as Ned had once called him, was speaking in very low tones to a messenger dressed in the dark blue colors of House Arryn. Littlefinger was displeased with whatever the messenger was saying and the veins in his neck started to stand out.

“I will relay the message to my Lady,” the messenger squeaked before rushing away. The young boy skirted past her and Emma turned her head to watch as he went. When she turned back Littlefinger was making his way towards her.

“My Lady, what a pleasure to see you.” He gave her a calculating smile and placed a light kiss across her knuckles. Emma had to fight the urge to cringe away and had to struggle with the stronger urge that told her to sink her knife into his neck. She had not forgotten that it was Lord Baelish who had betrayed Ned. Her suspicious thoughts upon meeting him had come true and she blamed herself for not keeping a closer eye on him. 

“Where are you off to this fine afternoon?” Baelish asked curiously. 

“I had planned for a walk in the gardens,” Emma explained a little rudely. Petyr raised an eyebrow at her and the two continued to stare at each other in a tense silence. Finally, he muttered something about a council meeting and began to walk away. Something began to build inside of Emma and before she could think about her actions she turned and called down the hall after him.

“Yes, my lady?” He asked cautiously. Emma stalked towards him and planted herself so that her lips could graze his ear.

“I have not forgotten how you betrayed Ned Stark. If you know what is good for you, you will stay away from me and you will stay away from Sansa. One dead Stark is enough, don’t you think?” She whispered threateningly. She exchanged a look with him before turning and storming off, her anger subsiding the minute she reached the gardens.

As she approached the fountain a memorable sound caught her ear. It was the tell-tale sound of clashing swords; a noise Emma was very familiar with. She followed the clanking and made her way out into the garden courtyard. Sandor was training with a knight that was three times smaller than him and he was being merciless. The poor man was doing his best to defend the man’s attack, but the Hound’s blows were much too strong. Emma, taking pity on the poor knight, approached them without hesitation.

“That’s not very fair,” Emma called out as she approached the two. The smaller man bowed very sharply before he ran in the opposite direction. Emma chuckled and picked up the dull training sword he had dropped. Sandor was looking at her in confusion, sweat dripping from his face and making his linen shirt cling to his chest. Emma tried not to look too hard, but from what she saw he had a very defined chest that was dusted with black hair. A very superb chest by her standards.

“What are ya doin’ out here?” Sandor asked, his breaths coming out in short pants. Emma tested the weight of the sword and took a few practice swings with it before answering.

“I was just taking a walk when I heard all the noise. I got curious,” she smirked and jabbed at him. Sandor easily deflected it, his eyes now sharpening to watch her movements. Emma started to pace in front of him, the sword pointed towards the man. Her movements came so naturally to her it was like she had just practiced yesterday. She was probably a little rusty, but it felt nice to just have a sword in her hand.

“Ya shouldn’t be playin’ with that,” Sandor warned as Emma twirled the steel. She raised an eyebrow at him and continued to walk.

“I haven’t trained in a while. Care to help me out?” She teased, her blue eyes flashing mischievously. Sandor scoffed and lowered his own sword, letting his guard fall, and that’s when Emma struck. She swung her sword and caught him right in the side, a blow that would’ve been fatal had he not been wearing his lower armor and had the sword actually been sharp. Sandor looked up at her in surprise but Emma was already dancing away, her eyes sharpening.

“Can’t do this out here,” he growled, something obviously bothering him. Emma frowned and lowered her sword, still carefully watching him in case this was a trick. Sandor was acting strangely; the other night had seemed to bring them closer, or so Emma had thought.

“Tonight. Midnight,” he whispered hoarsely before stalking away. Emma scoffed and dropped her sword. That man ran so hot and cold on her that she was surprised steam didn’t follow him everywhere. At least she would finally be able to train again. She made a mental reminder to ask Bronn for some clothes that she could train in. She would have to make up some lie to him, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that she was training with Sandor and not him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my new story, The Rose Viper! It's about Oberyn Martell. I feel like he doesn't get enough love.


	11. Training Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Emma train together.

Sandor was waiting near the fountain where Emma had seen him earlier that day. He felt nervous about being alone with her, especially after the dreams he had been having. Ever since that first dream things had gotten increasingly more intense. In the last few days he had had at least six sex dreams, two of which ended with him proclaiming his love for her. He had gotten especially excited seeing her in the courtyard today. Her dress had hugged her perfectly and the sight of the sword in her hand was very appealing.

Sandor was so busy thinking about Emma that he never heard the person come up behind him. He felt the point of a sword in the middle of his back and he tensed up. Luckily, he had his sword ready in his hand so he twirled around and smacked the intruder’s weapon away. At first, he thought the person was Bronn, based on the clothing alone, but after another glance he saw that it was only Emma.

“Distracted?” She smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Sandor’s immediate response was to smile, but he pushed it down by focusing on the clothes that she was wearing. Upon further inspection, he became certain that those were Bronn’s clothes. He recognized the linen and it was obvious by the fit that they were men’s clothes.

“Where’d ya get the clothes?” He asked, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. Emma looked down at herself, a small smile on her lips. Sandor tried not to read too much into the smile, but he couldn’t help it.

“I borrowed them from Bronn. I still have no idea where Joffrey put all my old clothes,” she explained nonchalantly. Sandor grunted in response and moved a good distance away from her, taking up a fighting stance. Emma tilted her head and watched him curiously, her hand nowhere near her training sword. Sandor sighed and lifted his sword towards her. His intentions were quite obvious, but Emma seemed content to just stand there and stare at him.

“Are we gonna train or not?” He finally snapped. Emma’s lips curled into that all too familiar smirk that made Sandor’s heart race. She finally drew her sword but still remained very casual in her stance.

“Let’s begin then,” she chuckled and raised her sword. Sandor struck out first, his swing gentler than when he fought with the other men. Emma easily side stepped him and spun around so that she was behind him. Sandor spun around and lifted his sword in preparation but was surprised to find that Emma’s sword was still down. He launched himself forward and again Emma easily evaded him.

“I’ve got to say, I expected more from the great and powerful Hound,” Emma teased. Sandor growled and readjusted the grip on his sword.

“And I expected more from the legendary Stormcrest warrior,” he rasped back at her. That seemed to strike a chord with Emma because she suddenly went on the offensive. She struck as quickly as a viper and Sandor had a split second to lift his sword to defend himself. The fire in her eyes doubled and Sandor couldn’t help the smirk that crawled across his face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sandor inquired, surprising himself. Emma raised an eyebrow, blocking a wild swing from the man, and nodded her head.

“Ya took yer engagement to my brother quietly. Why?” He asked, his breath coming out in short pants. Emma was better than he had expected and he was starting to get tired.

“My brother is my liege lord. I need to do what he says,” Emma replied as she too began to pant. Sandor frowned at the woman; she was obviously lying and he wanted to know why.

“Ya seem like the kind of girl that can easily control a man,” he grunted as Emma whacked his hip. She chuckled at his annoyed expression, but her face fell as she thought about what he said.

“I’m afraid of what they’ll do to my brother. They know that I control our armies and they know how much I care about my brother. And who said that I’m taking it quietly?”

Sandor hesitated and Emma took this opportunity to disarm him. She slapped his arm with her sword, causing him to drop it, and she held her own sword to his Adam’s apple.

“What are ya doin’ about it?” He asked softly. Emma lowered her sword and took a step closer to him. In the cold night air Sandor could feel her body heat radiating towards him. His chest constricted slightly at their closeness and his mind screamed at him to move away, but his feet were frozen in place. Then she was looking at him again. It was one of those looks that made him feel like she could see right into his soul.

“I’m going back to Oceanmire,” she stated soundly. Sandor raised an eyebrow, unsure of how she was going to accomplish that. Emma must have known what he was thinking because a small smirk appeared on her lips.

“When we send Myrcella off to Dorne I’ll slip away. There will be so much ceremony and crying that no one will notice. I’ll even take Sansa with me, take her back to Winterfell,” she explained with a smile. 

To Sandor, it seemed like a good enough plan. They wouldn’t notice that the two girls were gone until it was too late and by then they would be far from King’s Landing. 

“I need your help though,” she added as she took a step away from Sandor. He immediately missed her warmth and took a step closer to get it back. She looked up at him, her eyes a mixture of confusion and curiosity. 

“What can I do?” He asked. Emma turned her body fully to them and they found that their chests were practically touching.

“Distract Joffrey. He’ll have his eyes on Sansa and I can’t take her with me if she’s being watched,” she growled in annoyance. Without thinking, Sandor reached out and stroked a strand of her hair that had come out of its intricate braid. She jumped slightly at his touch, but she didn’t shrink away.

“I’ll do it,” he promised her. A kind smile graced her lips and the urge to kiss her struck Sandor hard in the chest. They both stood there for a long moment, just looking into each other’s eyes. The only reason they broke away was because the guards were changing and Sandor didn’t want anyone recognizing them.

“I’ll walk ya back,” he offered as he holstered his sword. The walk back to her room was much different from their walk the other night. There was very little tension and it was more comfortable. They reached her door and Emma immediately went to open it.

“Wait,” he snapped out quickly. Emma turned to him, an almost expectant look in her eyes. Sandor couldn’t believe what he was doing but he found himself leaning down so that their faces were inches apart.

“Be safe tomorrow,” he whispered. Emma nodded her head slowly, her eyes drifting to his lips. Sandor steeled himself and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. He shouldn’t have done it, but she was leaving tomorrow and they would probably never see each other again. He wanted her to ask him to come, but even if she did he could never go with her. He would be missed far more than she would.

He pulled away slowly, wanting to see her reaction. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly pursed like she had been expecting something more. Sandor straightened up and resisted the strong urge to cup her cheek.

“G’night,” he rasped out before walking away. He heard Emma heave a heavy sigh before her door clicked shut. He really hoped that she and the Stark girl escaped, even if it meant never seeing Emma again.

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to bookmark and leave a comment! I would love to hear your thoughts. :)


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